


Teach Me Something New

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crushes, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, im rusty with writing forgive me, short and sweet!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: James is a boring tutor. Keith is easily distracted. They meet in the middle.





	Teach Me Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tricodeku on instagram and tricodekuarts on tumblr. Go check out their stuff it’s really really good!!

Keith doesn’t need a tutor. He knows that. Shiro knows that. The officer who caught him sneaking off of the roof for the fifth time in as many weeks knows it too. But he’s been pushing the envelope of boundaries for too long now, and he hates when they call Shiro in on his disciplinary lectures. They’re less about Garrison conduct and more about making him feel as guilty as possible, especially when they direct their accusatory questions on the one person who would probably plead for his innocence even if Keith himself confessed to a crime. 

So they get him a tutor. 

But not just any old, reasonable, academic tutor. Keith, despite what many officers, teachers and cadets like to think, was as talented in the classroom as he was in the simulations. He did his work and he did it well, turning assignments in on time, even early if that was an option. His problem was the social aspect of the Garrison. Everyone expected him to salute, to nod and chirp out responses like a cheap toy with a pull cord. He was never a fan of blind conformity, regardless of how hard someone worked to reach their rank. They hadn’t earned his respect personally, and they didn’t even try to respect him, so why bother?

So no, he doesn’t need help with his coursework, and the higher ups aren’t naive enough to assign him a mentor. By now everyone knows that Shiro is the only one he’ll listen to with minimal attitude, and asking anyone else to try would be an insult and a waste of time. 

Shiro approaches him at lunch a week later, an all too familiar figure a respectful two steps behind him. 

“Cadet Kogane,” Shiro greets him with a nod. 

“Shiro,” Keith says with his mouth full of powdered mashed potatoes. The man gives him a _look_ but doesn’t bother scolding him, not with the current company he’s keeping. 

“Cadet Griffin will be working with you from now on.” Shiro gestures James forward, the picture perfect student. His uniform is neat and orderly, his posture is straight, his expression is neutral. 

“Hey,” Keith says, obnoxious with his food now. It’s worth getting chewed up carrots on his pants, if only for the look of disgust that mares James’ factory made expression. 

“Charming as always, Keith.” James wipes away invisible lint from his pants and stands up even straighter, his back like a ruler. Keith flicks a piece of bread at him. 

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, looking pained. “Please, for my sake, just make this work. If I have to sit in on another disciplinary meeting with either of you..” He trails off, the empty threat enough for James to relax his tense shoulders, and for Keith to swallow his food. 

“Report to the library after dinner tonight.” Shiro tells him, scooping up Keith’s bread roll. “James will go over the material with you.” 

“Which is?” Surprisingly this comes from James, who looks less self assured than he had a moment ago. Shiro blinds him with a smile. 

“Whatever you want it to be.” He turns that smile on Keith, and whoever thinks that Takashi Shirogane isn’t an absolute terror on the world clearly hasn’t spent enough time with him. 

“You’re in charge.” 

~*~

If you asked Keith what he had learned over the past two weeks, he wouldn’t be able to list anything from the textbooks. James told Keith about obscure star myths, the origin of horoscopes, what fruits worked for different types of diets, and even about fighting techniques. Keith recognized a few of the moves from their own sparring sessions, and knowing that James had learned them from a _book_ was unfairly endearing. 

The thing was… god how could he put this nicely? 

James was boring. 

Paint drying on the wall, syrup dripping from the bottle, waiting for a broken leg to heal _boring_. He spoke in a droning tone, void of emotion even though it was clear he enjoyed the subjects he showed Keith. It was like he only had one setting: gray. 

Keith, for his part, tried his best not to look as bored as he felt. After three days everything started blending together, and by the time curfew rolled around each night he was too tired to get up to any trouble. Which, he thinks, was the point of these tutoring sessions. 

“Keith?”

At least James was nice to look at. Taller than he was as a bratty kid, broader too, with a voice that washed over him like a slow wave. He was using gel in his hair now, which Keith hated, because it made his bangs stiff. Keith liked the way it flopped in front of his eyes when the wind was strong, the way he held it out of his face after surprise inspections on days when Iverson barely lets them dress after showering. 

“Keith.” 

The uniform fit him well, too. Even though Keith thought it was lame that James wore his so...uniformly all the time, even on weekends. He didn’t care what positive attributes it promoted, the collars were stiff and his never fit quite right. Shiro thinks he’s been secretly growing. Keith thinks they do it on purpose. He was sixteen dammit, he shouldn’t still look like a scrawny eighth grader in his clothes. 

But James? His clothes have always fit him well, and they were always clean and ironed, no loose threads or faded marks. He didn’t even wear pre-ripped jeans! Part of why Keith couldn’t stand him some days was because he put appearance above everything else. Look the best, be the best. It was insufferable! Just once Keith wants to see his calm, cool and collected mask crack down the middle. 

“Keith! Are you even listening to me?”

Keith’s eyes snap up to James’ face, taking in his annoyed expression. It occurs to him that while he had been staring at James’ lips, he hadn’t heard a sound. He couldn’t be blamed for that, though. James’ lips looked soft, pink like a rose or the strawberry candy he loved. 

Did they taste sweet like that too? 

James stares back at him, apprehensive and confused. “...What is it?” His eyes dart down to Keith’s lips for half a second, but that’s all the invitation Keith needs. 

They’re already sitting so close, it doesn’t take more than a thought to lean over and kiss him. His lips are warm, dry but not chapped, and soft like warm candy. Not that Keith gets to linger on the feeling. 

“K-Keith!” James reels back, slapping a hand over his mouth as his entire face and even the tips of his ears turn a dark pink. It’s a good look for him.

Lips still pursed, half in a pout, half ready for another go, Keith sighs. 

“You talk too much.”


End file.
